by Sam J Fires
CRIMSON RAGE
Book 1 of the CRIMSON RAGE series
By Sam J Fires
Copyright 2021 by Samuel Fires Publications. All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or person, whether living or dead, is entirely coincidental. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment.
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BAD BOYS MAKE BROKEN MEN
Cole Denvers is a bouncer at the hottest nightclub in town, The Ballroom, when he’s approached by Gino Scanelli, Mob Boss and owner of the club, to be an enforcer for his gang. The big times are calling, and Cole wants to be a part of the big game.
He doesn’t mind hitting people, but it goes against his moral upbringing to kill anyone. He builds a reputation on the streets as being a hard-handed enforcer. But with each beating that he lays down, the voice of his dead brother calls out from the grave, forcing Cole to face his past, and relive the horror of his brother’s death when he was callously run down in the street by a hit-and-run perpetrator.
Sure, everyone has hardships, but as Cole’s about to find out the hard way... On the mean streets of New York City, Bad Boys Make Broken Men.
GET YOUR FREE COPY OF BAD BOYS MAKE BROKEN MEN HERE
Table of Contents
CHAPTER 1- JED
CHAPTER 2 - ERIC
CHAPTER 3 - JANE
CHAPTER 4 - DONNA
CHAPTER 5 - JANE
CHAPTER 6 - DONNA
CHAPTER 7 - ERIC
CHAPTER 8 – SAFE HAVEN?
Other books by Sam Fires
About the author
CHAPTER 1- JED
Only a few noticed the first sprinkles penetrate the cloud. Partly because the sprinkles were too minute to be seen and partly because people were too wrapped up in their everyday lives to notice.
And they had been told to expect sunny skies on that day.
The last day of Jed’s career as a meteorologist was perhaps the most eventful he’d ever had. He would have called it ‘saving the bizarre for last’.
He’d been working in the profession for nearly thirty years and had become accustomed to the daily routine and the growing mundaneness of it. Once in his younger, more ambitious years, Jed would have hoped to have been witness to some great anomaly or have contributed some world stopping invention to the field of meteorology. Something that would allow him to take his place in the halls of fame among the likes of Beaufort and Hadley. But he seemed to be doomed to fade into the background. Once this would have troubled him no end. But now, he had reconciled himself to the lack of prestige.
But what was happening today would have elevated Jed to the history books, had he lived to report it.
Suddenly, his anemometers started registering a mass increase in wind speed, snapping him out of his melancholic reminiscences. The readings were off the chart, unlike anything he’d ever seen before. Jed strolled around outside, looking to the heavens, as though expecting a sign. White clouds floating amongst a blue ocean looked down at him, giving no hint of what was to come.
Jed winced as he felt a sharp sting on his forearm. He swatted at it, figuring it to be a bug bite.
But when he looked at his arm, he could make out the tiniest incision as though a needle had penetrated his skin.
Jed would later feel the sting of a thousand needles, red hot and relentless.
His body still hasn’t been found.
*
Donna rolled the tiny little pill around between her fingers, as though trying to glean some hidden meaning from it. I seriously hope I’m not going to spend the rest of my life dependent on these little bastards. Donna popped the pill into her mouth and downed it with a swig of gin and tonic.
“You really want to be taking that with booze?” Josie had just finished serving a customer and had moved down the bar to Donna, disapproval etched on her face.
“Can’t you just be glad I’m taking them, Mom?” Donna retorted sarcastically.
She and Josie had been friends since high school and even though they had gone their separate ways career-wise, Donna had always found time to catch up over a drink at the bar Josie owned… which seemed to be happening more and more frequently. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be? Like work?”
“Not anymore” said Donna. “I had a bit of a meltdown in the office today trying to find the stationery.”
“It can’t have been that bad,” offered Josie half-heartedly, all too aware of Donna’s mood swings over the years.
“I may have elbowed one of the editors in the face by accident.”
“Ah. Shit. So, what did they say?”
“Something along the lines of ‘I think you’d better go home, Donna’.” She tried to keep her voice nonchalant, but Josie would see through that. “I wouldn’t be surprised if I didn’t have a job tomorrow.”
“I really think you need to speak to someone,” offered Josie, for what felt like the millionth time.
“And say what? Doctor, can you stop me from turning into a fucking basket case?”
“Donna, it’s bipolar. It’s manageable.”
“Well, it doesn’t fucking feel like it.” Donna shouted so loud some of the bar folk turned in her direction. “This is how I’m going to be for the rest of my life. I’m not going to feel better. I just need to get used to that.”
Suddenly, Donna felt she needed to be somewhere different. Anywhere where people weren’t passing silent judgment on her.
“Donna!” Josie called after her.
But she was already out the door.
*
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are now venturing down one of the more neglected parts of Los Angeles, an overgrown desert that may have once held the foundations of some bygone civilization, a hamlet, maybe even a mass grave …”
“Okay, cut!”
Eric Lander stopped talking, waiting to hear whatever demoralising putdown his cameraman Leo had to offer. I bet Hitchcock never had to deal with people trying to clip his wings.
Leo set the camera on the ground and ran his fingers through his hair, his exasperation coming to the surface. “I’ve got to say, Eric, I can’t understand why we’re going to all this trouble. Folks don’t want to see Planet Earth: Los Angeles style.”
“It’s for my showreel,” explained Eric. “People want to see a naturalistic side to my work.”
“If you were David Attenborough, maybe. But this? This won’t sell. Producers, they’re like wolves. They can smell amateur on you. I still think we should show them the music video we shot…”
“No.” Eric’s voice echoed through the deserted wasteland, the volume surprising both of them. “The only way I would show that footage to anyone is if I was wanting to plan my death by embarrassment.”
“I’m actually quite proud of that footage,” said Leo indignantly. When Eric didn’t offer anything further, Leo walked over to him, each step feeling heavier than the previous. “Look, buddy. I’ve enjoyed doing this with you. We’ve held onto this dream for what, six years now? We’ve got talent to offer. And I’ve been holding out for a big break just like you. But if it was going to happen… don’t you think it would have by now?”
Eric didn’t even want to consider that possibility. “What are you saying, Leo?”
“I’m saying perhaps we sh
ould consider knocking it on the head. It was a nice little dream while it lasted. Passed the time. But maybe we need to join the real world. Find something with more of a future.”
But life as a filmmaker was the only future Eric had envisioned. Without it, he had no idea how to define himself.
*
Never thought chasing down a perp would feel so damn mundane.
All of Jane’s actions; pinning him to the ground, straining herself to prevent an escape, slapping on the handcuffs and then marching the suspect to the car, all her movements were precise and robotic, as though she had completely given herself over to muscle memory.
She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to feel about that. Sometimes, she felt thankful that she had fallen into a pattern of behavior that yielded no surprises. On the other hand, Jane felt that maybe she wasn’t fulfilling her full potential. She’d had so much hope when she became a cop, the chance to really make a difference in the world. And it felt like that chance was constantly being kicked into the long grass. She’d long given up any hope of making detective. There had to be something for her to strive for. But that would require something to change. She would have to change.
And what are the odds of that ever happening?
CHAPTER 2 - ERIC
Eric made his way back to the car, thinking over his ‘career’, if he could call it that.
I’m a filmmaker, he told himself once again, repeating the affirmation like a mantra. I’ll be one until I die.
He had to make it work. He had spent the last twelve years with this single-minded goal lodged in his head. He’d sacrificed opportunities and relationships. They had all been secondary to his dream. Leo was the only one who still tolerated him. If he gave up now, then it would all be for nothing. He would have spent nearly half his life chasing down something that wasn’t meant to be.
I swear this is probably going to be one of those days where it feels like the sky is falling.
But the sky wasn’t falling.
It was turning crimson red, the clouds bloodshot.
It was a sight unlike anything Eric had ever seen before. And at first, he found himself appreciating the ethereal beauty of the sky. He was so captivated by the visuals that it was a good few moments before he noticed something emerging from the sky.
Birds?
Birds would have been the safe answer. Birds would have been the logical answer.
But what happened over the next few minutes defied logic.
“Ow, bastard,” muttered Leo as he waved his hand in the air.
“You all right?” Eric looked away from the sky.
“I’m fine,” said Leo, inspecting his Hawaiian shirt. “Probably just a mosquito.”
There was a tiny hole in his shirt. He undid the top three buttons and felt around his shoulder where there were a series of small red spots.
Eric moved closer, tempted to bring his fingers up to investigate the tiny spots, but stopping just shy of doing so. “What you been doing to yourself? It looks like tiny needle pricks or something”
“Nothing!” protested Leo, affronted.
As Eric leaned closer, he felt a sharp sting on the back of his neck. He looked back at the sky, then looked down at the left sleeve of his leather jacket. Within the creases of the sleeve, he could make out tiny little specks of…
“Sand,” said Eric, picking some up with his thumb and forefinger. “Red sand.”
Eric rubbed the specks between his two fingers, the action making tiny craters on his digits. “The fuck is this?” he showed the strange marks to Leo.
And then they both felt it. It came sharper this time, like tiny knife points making surgical incisions in their skin.
And then they saw it.
Countless specks of sand began to hail down on them and now, the sensation wasn’t just stinging. It was burning. As though they were being impaled by a thousand red hot needles.
“We’ve got to get back to the car. Now,” said Eric, backing up slowly. “NOW!” he shouted, breaking into a run.
The sandstorm suddenly picked up, as if in response to their pursuit and it rained down on them, relentlessly. Eric’s leather jacket provided him with some protection, but Leo’s Hawaiian t-shirt was slowly being microscopically hacked away.
Just as they got to the car, Eric began running back.
“Where are you going?” Leo called after him.
Eric returned barely a minute later clutching the camera with such care and protection as though it were his firstborn. Leo stared at him, open-mouthed. “You have got to be shitting me.”
“No, I’m not. This is the closest thing I have to a livelihood.”
*
Eric and Leo drove slowly down the road, taking in the chaos around them. Conversation between the two had been sparse, partly because any words would be drowned out by the noise of the sand pelting down on the car, but also they were dumbfounded by the strange turn of events.
Eric’s mind was racing, trying to form theories and ideas as to the nature of the bizarre anomaly. Mother Nature finally collecting the environmental bill? A government conspiracy to get everybody shitting themselves? Or maybe it was an alien invasion? Each explanation that ran through Eric’s mind was more absurd than the last.
“I don’t get it,” said Leo, disbelievingly. “Where did it come from?”
“Fuck knows.” Eric refrained from sharing his theories with Leo, lest he come across as a complete lunatic.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” said Leo, trying to make out the road ahead through the hail of sand that audibly bounced off the windshield. “It’s like something out of a horror movie.”
That jolted Eric into action. He reached into the backseat for the video camera and turned it on, pointing it through the passenger window, zooming in on the cars, the buildings, the entire panorama of this haunting vision.
“The fuck are you doing?” asked Leo, keeping his eyes on the road.
“This could be important footage,” justified Eric, adjusting the settings on the camera to get the clearest picture, wanting to capture every little detail.
“You never cease to amaze me,” said Leo disbelievingly. “We could have an end-of-the-world scenario around the corner and you would still try to play Steven Spielberg.”
And that’s when they heard the crack.
It was only a small one, in the center of the windshield, but it made both Leo and Eric jump in their seats.
As Eric moved the camera closer, he could see a tiny speck embedded in the glass, vibrating, almost as if trying to break through.
And finally, it did.
The windshield shattered and a swarm of glass particles and sand started attacking the two terrified passengers, trying to penetrate their clothes and get to their skin.
Leo slammed the brakes on hard, tried to back the car up and reverse it away from the storm. And the car did move, albeit not in the way Leo expected.
It took several seconds for Leo to realize that the tires weren’t grinding against tarmac, but in thin air. It took Eric a few seconds less to notice that the pavement and cars were now seven feet below them.
The pair lost all track of time as the car was sent hurtling through the air.
Eric’s stomach lurched as though he was on some kind of reverse roller coaster.
Time seemed to slow down for Eric, a fraction of a second passing. And in that time, it dawned on him that this could well be the moment he would die. And in the few seconds of real time, he tried to reconcile himself with that fact.
Maybe I’ll be like those filmmakers who are only discovered and appreciated after they’re dead. He wasn’t even surprised that he found gallows humor a comfort.
He didn’t have time to close his eyes before the car finally impacted with something solid and his world went black.
CHAPTER 3 - JANE
Goddamn sand, Jane mumbled as she marched the perp back to the car. She swatted at the specs of sand flying through the air l
ike she would a swarm of flies.
Jane hadn’t given much thought to the storm. Sure, it was perplexing, which she couldn’t explain, but she took the same attitude to the storm as she took with everything that wasn’t directly involved in police work. She pushed it into the background.
As she marched the perp forward, Jane began to realize it wasn’t going to be as simple as that. People were running around the street, working themselves into a frenzy like she’d never seen before.
Jane was becoming increasingly worried. She had helped break up enough riots and dealt with enough looters to recognise the foreboding signs of mob mentality. But taking on the world single-handedly wasn’t an option.
As she made it back to her squad car with the suspect in tow, the storm picked up speed. The streets were rapidly emptying. People were taking shelter in the nearest shops and bars. More than once, Jane was forced to shield her eyes with her free arm but she was finding it hard trying to keep the prisoner restrained with a single hand, so she pulled out her shades and put them on. They provided some protection from the battering sand particles but she could feel the tiny specs bouncing off the glass and hear them trying to penetrate.
“I’m not going back to jail!” he screamed, struggling with renewed vigor. “I’ll die first.”
Don’t tempt me. Jane slammed the suspect against the hood of her cruiser and took in the surroundings through an increasingly red tint as a blur of sand pecked at the windows of the cars…
The cars… In their haste to get away from the sandstorm, people had abandoned their vehicles. Up ahead, Jane could make out a line of cars with open doors. All blocking her path.
Jane choked back her frustration and spoke into her radio. “Officer stranded. In need of assistance.” She waited for a reply, but crackle was the only response.
Sensing her distraction, her prisoner took his chance. He flung his head backwards, catching Jane on the chin and she stumbled to the pavement, landing flat on her back.